A/N: Well, it's fair to start saying that this will be a long story. There is a real possibility of many chapters ahead as I tend to write a lot. (sorry) Regarding the chronology: the first chapters faithfully follow the book Deathly Hallows until the end of the Battle of Hogwarts,so if you haven't read the book it will be very difficult to understand anything.
About Draco and Ginny: I don't like stories where these two adorable dorks fall in love in one chapter. To tell you the truth, in this story Draco appears less than I would like until chapter six, give or take it. I needed to develop the whole context before the forced approach of them and tried to keep the whole thing as canon as possible. The result of this was a much bigger story than I expected at the beginning and a DG interaction that comes only after I have developed some points that I considered important.
The opening two chapters of this story are already on this site, under the profile of someone else. I'll repeat them here, with some minor adjustments.
I had allowed this author to post what I had written, but she didn't follow through. In order not to disturb her (life happens to us all) I decided to post what I'd written, under my own username.
1 – Life Goes On
March, 1998
Rain is something funny. She knew it was an awkward thought to have considering the moment, however, it was exactly what she was thinking over those last few instants, nested and embracing her own knees on a window sill while observing those heavy raindrops punishing the glass. Rain had a bunch of facets that could make you feel truly alive — when little raindrops fall on your face and you smile with the sensation of being against them, for instance — or either could ruin all your hopes, draining through you as the water that drenches your clothes… and leave you empty.
It's grey; might be good, might be bad, it all depends on the angle of the viewer, on the moment.
She used to enjoy observing it because the rain didn't mirror the current Manichean reality — it worked almost as a pressure valve that didn't involve butterbeer or some sort of illicit activity.
This introspective girl in particular was called Ginevra Molly Weasley, sixteen years old, living in a world trying to balance itself on a tightrope before a breathless audience. No one could say for sure on which side the world would swing.
Her life had a white side, joyous. A side capable of waking her up early in the morning and shout to the world once this "crisis" was over, she would be Harry Potter's wife, the Boy-That-Kept-Surviving. It just didn't cross her mind that, after so long and after so many fights, things could end up badly. It was a matter of destiny, of justice. The white side of her life also covered her family, the ones that encompassed her with love as a cocoon encompasses a butterfly about to transform — even if the comparison wasn't that good, since growing up with six elder Siblings gave her the graciosity of a hippopotamus rather than a butterfly's. But she couldn't care less as long as they were by her side… as long as Harry was by her side.
And then there was the dark side of her life, somehow always lurking, always waiting for the slightest blunder. A black side that almost killed her during her first year in Hogwarts due to a bloody enchanted diary, which by the way, put the entire school in danger. The dark side that got her literally running for her life at the Ministry of Magic on her fourth year and the responsible for the tense atmosphere that caused the air to be nearly unbreathable. The black side that took Mad-Eye Moody in June, Dumbledore a year before, disfigured Bill. The dark side that kept pushing her away from him. She missed Harry so much that sometimes she thought she would suffocate, as much as for his absence as for the fact he was threaded somewhere with Ron and Hermione while she was condemned to stay in Hogwarts… and the sorrow rooted in her chest was there because she was certain of giving all the possible proofs of her capacity and devoutness, and yet, at the end, she would never be anything but the youngest sister, a fragile girl who needs protection, and she loathed that.
They have never treated Hermione that way, and for "they" she defined as half of the wizarding world.
Nevertheless, she kept validating her point, doing her bit. At least it was what she has been trying to do in Hogwarts since she left The Burrow at the beginning of past year's September. Alongside the Dumbledore's Army (or the remains of it), she established the Resistance's cell opposing You-Know-Who's influence at the school, and only Merlin knew at what cost: if previously detentions could be summed up in boredom and never ending tedious activities, such as dealing with dusty books and viscous animals, now the setting was definitely different. It wasn't sporadic a student coming back from those torture sessions disguised in detentions incapable of walking by themselves, and that was specifically true for Neville; contrary to all Universe prognoses, he had been showing himself a valorous leader, filling her heart with tenderness whenever she thought of him.
It all began when she, Neville and Luna tried to steal the Godric Gryffindor's sword at the Headmaster's Office, then Severus Snape's. They had been sent to the Forbidden Forest and their visits to Hogsmeade were banished; Ginny assumed that would be the summit on detentions terms to receive, but thereupon, the school's disciplinary sector got under Alecto and Amycus Carrow's charge, who took the teacher posts of "Muggles Studies" and the newly devised "Dark Arts". Ginny felt shivers down her spine at the memory: now students were obliged to practice Unforgivable Curses on those whom were in detention, and Ginny was gutted at the fact.
The worst part, besides not having any news from the outside world, was enduring the Carrow Siblings' oddities. Hogwarts became similar to a cemetery full with lost souls wandering through the halls. Obviously, genuine lost souls were wandering there, although the context was quite unrelated.
Their last brilliant idea was promoting some kind of fraternization, aiming to testify the wizarding world was now united under one and only flag. The four big houses of Hogwarts must be united, a crystal-clear statement meaning there was no room for disparity and plurality; this "fraternization" would be the first step towards homogeneity. Of course, the gentle touch of masochism had been left in the Carrow Siblings' careful hands: they found very interesting (not to say hilarious) to determine the couples for the occasion, creating potential punitive and embarrassing situations for those involved. It seemed unnecessary underline that to refuse to attend "could" bring more trouble than benefits. Furthermore…
"Hey, Redhead."
She was abruptly pulled away from her thoughts.
On those particular moments, the entire elder Siblings' forbidden vocabulary and the need of having a Quidditch wooden bat at hand would pop up on her mind. Blaise Zabini appeared from a shadowy corner on the hall, seemingly ready to the forthcoming session of torture disguised as a Ball. It was still ghastly to uphold any sort of civilised dialogue with him, but… his presence was way more comforting than a Carrow Siblings'.
"Hello to you too, Zabini. Good to know it's common to stalk defenceless girls through the halls among those who received a pure-blood marvellous education," she emphasized.
"First of all, you're also a pure-blood, in spite of everything. Secondly, if you are a defenceless girl, I'm sure You-Know-Who fancies nasal congestion charms." He said with his typical steady voice. "I've already witnessed one or two consequences of your jinxes to verify for myself how much defenceless you can be."
She bit her lower lip to avoid an unwanted smile. If someone had told her a few months ago she would have something near to a friendship with Blaise Zabini, she would give a lift herself to this someone directly to St. Mungo's. Even though he was more cloistered than his Slytherin comrades, Blaise had never hid his scorn for muggle-borns, although the fact of always demonstrating disdain for every single person, regardless of their origin, weighed on his favour. The truth was Blaise Zabini was a relief, showing up with his natural acid retorts, cynicism and his constant behaviour. Ginny, not for the first time, pondered that was exactly what was missing on her life latterly: Constancy.
It was evident she was far from deeming Blaise Zabini as the new paladin of the fight against the Dark Lord, able to forge a scar on his forehead and defeat Death Eaters. Perhaps what attracted her about his presence was precisely that — she was so familiar with a "good versus evil" world that finding someone who didn't swing to neither side made her curiosity level rise to a great extent. Therefore, since the detention in which she was compelled to stay under his supervision for four hours (what supposedly should violate some moderate types of torture), their acquaintanceship evolved a lot. He was quite pleasant to chat with, as long as the fact of him being an egocentric bastard was ignored.
In essence, Blaise was the embodiment of selfishness, purely. He was not loyal to any ideology, to any cause. He didn't appreciate fundamentalisms of any kind, and neither would stick his neck for someone. He wanted (and he would, she had the feeling) to be on the winning side. Well, at least he was fun and he could make her forget for briefs seconds about the utter tosh that was living during a war — and when in war, if the only thing Ginny has learnt, you can't choose your allies; you simply avail those who are given to you.
She jumped from the window sill, stretched out in one of her usual feline movements, and began to walk.
"It isn't proper to wisecrack on the hallways nowadays, Blaise" she sighed, still avoiding a smile. She didn't reckon it was right to smile while Harry and Ron were starving and freezing, or while the Dumbledore's Army was being hunted.
"As much as it isn't proper to wear a brown dress when you've got this flaming hair. You have the appearance of a rust spot" He wrinkled his aristocratic nose at her. "But this is how life goes on, my dear Gryffindor. Good taste is just like money. Some have lots and others have so few…" He smiled with a bit of malice.
She compared her coy brown dress, adorned with golden lace on the sleeves and hem, to his posh tailor-made suit; it was of a dark-blue that matched his chocolate, comely skin. For a short period of time, she felt as if wearing a dress tailor-made to her grandmother. But it was a very short period of time. It wasn't proper to get attached to futilities.
The relevant fact was: she didn't care about Blaise's retorts anymore, mainly the ones about her financial condition, because those had a tendency to be followed by some comment even poisoner concerning someone else, regardless of their origin, financial condition or status. For example, the comments he always did on Pansy Parkinson and her low intelligence quotient.
Ginny saw the chance and she grabbed it.
"Then I'm very glad you've got a date with lots of money but none good taste" She said, half serious, half smiling. "I bet you'll have an unforgettable night with Parkinson."
She sensed he got uncomfortable. "Touché. It doesn't amuse me to scavenge other's people garbage" He said with a tad of his proud wounded and an absolute malicious tone. "Even if I'm strongly guessing Malfoy won't care much about what I'll do or not with Parkinson, since he'll have the pleasure of a far more interesting company."
Ginny blushed right away — with anger. It was hard enough to deal with the obligation of attending the Ball, but having Draco Malfoy as her date was the equivalent of being cursed. Since the end of the last year, his image only brought knots to her stomach. Dumbledore… his fault. Bill... his fault. Grief in Hogwarts… everything was his and that bloody Vanishing Cabinet fault.
After the couples' announcement, her mood got pretty bad for an entire week. She has finally attested the veracity of "Nothing is bad enough to the point it cannot get worse".
Anyways, it seemed the Malfoy's influence inside the Death Eaters circle was outworn. There was no doubt she was being punished through the selection; the acquaintanceship with Zabini may had caused the impression of a slight inclination to the Dark Side, but this impression was very microscopic once it was took under advisement her family was still a blood-traitor and, to top it all, she had been Harry Potter's girlfriend.
On the other hand, the punishment to Malfoy could only mean one thing: his family was in trouble with You-Know-Who. After what happened at the Ministry of Magic and at the Astronomy Tower, something went, without question, very wrong for them. Probably it was about Draco's failure on his attempt to kill Professor Dumbledore, in spite of him being the responsible for all the chaos caused in Hogwarts that night… Anyhow, Ginny could only speculate.
"Oh, yes, his date is a very distinctive person. It's a shame that he thinks she's worth less than a toothless grindylow." She said absently.
Blaise laughed. He wouldn't laugh often and Ginny thought his smile made his countenance a lot blander. "So I presume his distinctive date worries about what he thinks of her?"
Her stomach tossed and turned thanks to the nausea provoked by Zabini's joke. She couldn't dismiss from her mind the problems Malfoy had created by the end of the school past year, the injuries Bill had suffered, and how Harry broke up with her on Dumbledore's funeral.
"Easier for me to worry about Snape's thoughts on my dress." She said more grudgingly than expected. The one sin of Blaise Zabini was the fact that he was an egocentric bastard, and for the meanwhile, he didn't deserve a double shot of Weasley temperament.
"Hum, I somewhat doubt his taste can be trusted. However, you can ask him for some hair washing advice… Or not." He had come back to his introspective self and Ginny got surprised, not for the first time, by how much of an egocentric Blaise really was.
Raising the hem to an acceptable height which would allow her to walk a little faster, Ginny hastened her steps towards The Great Hall, designated to host the "fraternization". Draco Malfoy didn't bother himself in contacting her, and neither did she. As the vast majority of couples was arranged to dissatisfy those involved, the mutterings spread through the hallways suggested the best to do was to meet at The Great Hall's doors, then perform a bit to the Carrow Siblings, make a just-sucked-sour-lemon face and get out of there as soon as humanly possible.
As turning the hallways, with a quiet Zabini on her heels, Ginny kept focusing on the end of the evening. She was walking faster and faster as if it could anticipate the so desired end, with her shoes echoing against the castle's solid rock walls. Blaise was walking with much more elegance and flippancy, not even putting some effort in following her. When both turned a hallway that provided access to a few rooms, they saw two silhouettes dragging a third, which looked more unconscious than awake. In a certain way, Zabini's presence gave her the courage to get close. Ginny held her breath at the scene.
Neville was laid between two big lads, staggering to his feet. A cut was bleeding on his right eye while the left one was so swollen it could be considered nothing but a simple line inserted on a purple sea of protuberances, also known as the right side of his face. He seemed to be wearing a gala suit, but it was so damaged Ginny wouldn't be surprised if Neville told her he was just hit by the Hogwarts Express. After drinking five bottles of fire whiskey.
"In the name of Merlin, Neville! What happened to you?!" She gasped, getting closer.
The troglodytes who carried him (who Ginny recognized as Vincent Crabbe and David Urquhart) tried to block her way, but the imposing figure of Blaise Zabini right behind her as a statue somehow intimidated further reactions on the part of the "guards".
"Oh, hey there Gin!" He said with difficulty. "It's nothing major, trust me. All I did was conveying my thoughts to the Carrow about this Ball under our conditions. I guess they didn't appreciate my insight." He finished the sentence with a mixture of coughing and laughter, which made his body swing inertly between the troglodytes.
Ginny stared at her dress, at herself, ready for a Ball, and felt as the worst and deplorable person ever, agreeing to such whimsicalities coming from lunatics. She had the urge to rip out her dress, wield her wand and scream to the world she would fight, as her Siblings, as Neville.
Neville, already being dragged again to wherever it was his destination, noticed her reaction and as much as his condition allowed he tried to say gently: "Relax, Gin. Each one of us has its own manner to fight. It doesn't mean not fighting at all." He ceased with a wink, but its effect was neutralized due to the aspect of his eye. Afterward, Crabbe dealt a violent kick on Neville's right leg, and he immediately fell on the ground as a huge sack of oat. The Slytherin laughed as he would on those rare occasions when someone tells him a joke and he understands it. Ginny tried to react but the hand groping for her wand wasn't as fast as Zabini's hand holding hers.
His stone cold look was saying "don't do anything you might regret later". Ginny disentangled her hand from his sharply and dashed towards the opposite direction, leaving the message "don't you dare follow me" hovering in the air. Blaise was terrific when dealing with unsaid words. She would find a way to get to Neville after that stupid Ball was over.
Ginny tightened her eyes trying to avoid the tears, remembering of her first ball at Hogwarts, when Neville invited her, and it strangely seemed to have happened ages ago. She missed that age. She missed her room with those The Weird Sisters posters plastered on the walls. She missed her mother when washing the dishes with just a wave of her wand in a dance so familiar to her. She missed Luna, who has been kidnapped in the Hogwarts Express by Death Eaters on Christmas. She missed Hermione, she missed the twins and she missed Harry. Merlin, she missed Harry so much. She missed everything she had lost since Dumbledore's funeral.
She shook her head, nurturing Neville's idea. Yes, she would fight. But one battle at once. At that moment she needed to survive the evening, which probably would result in memories she would gladly dump right after in a Pensieve.
Ginny slowed her steps, taking a breath, and tried to pay attention to the details of the room which preceded The Great Hall's entrance, whilom decorated so gorgeously for the Yule Ball, in the Triwizard Tournament year. There wasn't as much sparkle and illumination but the most accentuated difference was, with no doubts whatsoever, people's faces… Erstwhile so happy and full of expectations concerning the music, the food, the whisperings to come, and now their faces only showed anxiety and disgust, awaiting their undesired dates.
She thought, sniffing between weep and desperate humour, that place was comparable to the St. Mungo's waiting room; where people didn't know very well what they would find in the room aside, but they could affirm it wouldn't be something good. The Great Hall entrance was open; however, Ginny couldn't see with clarity what it had inside. As she was about to squint her eyes and deepen the inspection, a figure detoured her attention.
There he was standing, turned back, leaning against one of the pillars responsible for the sustentation of the ceiling, monstrously high on that part of the Castle.
The time has arrived. The time to deal with Draco Malfoy.